Rain-drenched Fire
by ScribblinDaydreamer
Summary: An angsty one shot, set after the end of the anime. Requested by a friend. Sad Yata-kun is sad. Warning: a bit of coarse language. Don't judge me too hard.


A/N: this one shot was requested by the user 'Gigglepud.' Don't shoot me for being awkward at writing angst.

Yata swings his legs, idly kicking the air. Izumo had asked him to help with the bar, but now that he has performed his duty, there is nothing to do. He sits upon the bar stool, leaning against the counter with a blank kind of stare. He doesn't know what to do. He hasn't known what to do for a while now; he is directionless without his king.

'I haven't seen Seri in a while,' Izumo muses quietly. 'I wonder if that woman will visit eventually…'

Yata nods listlessly, his messy hair bobbing up and down. Instead of his usual outfit, he's wearing a simple, black button up shirt and black jeans, as he often does when Izumo requests his services at the bar.

Izumo glances at him. 'Yata, I can handle things for now, why don't you take a break and come back later.'

Yata shrugs and hops off his stool. He walks out of the bar and breathes in a lungful of cold, city air. It feels much colder since the Red king was gone, especially for Yata, whose spirit burns a little less brightly now. Those first few days after Mikoto was gone, he just couldn't take it. He constantly lost his temper, screaming, yelling and picking fights with his fellow HOMRA members, before sinking into a deep melancholy and exhaustion. This manic cycle went on until he was finally told to keep himself in check, and that he would just have to deal with the grief like everyone else.

It's only been a few weeks now, but Yata tries hard to keep his emotions in check. He doesn't scream, he doesn't fight and he doesn't cry. He leaves his skateboard at home now, along with his beanie and headphones. Those things belonged to happier times and it hurts him to look at them, let alone use them. Yata skateboarded for as long as he can remember and now hates walking, especially through this all too familiar city, where everything he sees is a reminder of the reality he has to live with; the reality that he hates.

He wanders off directionless, a cold ache stuck in his torso that frustrates him to no end. He hates himself for being useless, weak, stupid, and most of all, for not being able to let go of Mikoto's memory. His blind, loathing feeling causes his movements to be erratic and careless, causing him to trip, stumble and fall over items on the sidewalk too insignificant for his shattered attention. Within fifteen minutes, his hands are scraped sore and various bruises decorate his skin.

Deep gray clouds hover over the city, as if mocking him. The threat of rain chases pedestrians off the streets, leaving Yata alone in the cold weather and his misery. He clenches his teeth in frustration and denial, quickening his pace and slapping his feet down on the concrete in a desperate tempo, to just leave, to get away, to get somewhere he could escape these insufferable emotions. He begins to run through the city, not caring where he went, only that he end up some place less achingly familiar.

His speed up causes him to fall even more, collecting a large amount of scrapes and small injuries. Yata doesn't care, simply picking himself back up, biting down harder and setting off again. Agonizing questions that he has been trying to ignore leak back into his mind, selfishly putting themselves on an endless, tormenting loop. _When are you going to learn to live your life without him? Why can't you just get over it? What are you going to do with yourself? How come everyone else is handling this better than you? How come you couldn't save him? HOW COME HE'S GONE?_

He slows down and stumbles to a stop, gasping for air, clutching at the pain in his chest that doesn't go away, even after he catches his breath. He only notices how sore he is and how much his body hurts after he stops running. Overwhelmed and demoralized, he collapses under the overhang of a building just as the clouds start pouring rain. He gazes out at the rather unfamiliar buildings around him through the sheets of falling water.

'Where the hell am I?' he mutters, squinting out at the rain. Who knows, he doesn't care anyways. He rests for a while, leaning against the wall behind him, practicing his blank poker face. He gives in to the chill, hoping that maybe if he stays for long enough, the cold will freeze over his heart until he can't feel anything anymore. A figure suddenly catches his eye, walking down the street in a dark blue coat.

'Is that… Oh shit, that Fushimi,' Yata suddenly realizes. 'Fuck, I'm in sceptre 4 territory!'

He struggles up to his feet with a slight groan and ducks out into the rain, attempting to make a quick an inconspicuous escape. He winces as the freezing water drips into his fresh injuries, quickly soaking through his single layer of clothing. His mind releases a creative string of profane expletives as he tries to drag his aching feet at a faster pace.

'Misakiiii,' a taunting voice calls out, echoing between the buildings. 'What are you doing out in this weather?'

Yata stops walking, but doesn't turn around. He has the vague urge to kill Fushimi, but without his skateboard, he doesn't stand a chance against that sword. He gives a shuddering sigh, crossing his arms and hoping if he remains silent, his tormentor will leave eventually.

Fushimi grins, having confirmed that it is in fact Yata on the street before him. He eagerly jogs through the heavy downpour, not above kicking someone while he was down. 'What's with that outfit, hmm, Misaki? Did you forget to change out of your funeral clothes?'

Yata clenches his fists, reminding himself that he very much does not want to get made into human mince meat by Fushimi's sword. He glares silently at the ground, watching water ripples move across the flooded pavement.

'Oh, the silent treatment? How interesting,' Fushimi remarks. 'Where's your skateboard? Have you finally put away that childish thing? You're such a little kid, Misaki. Can't survive without adult supervision, eh. You're also short enough for it too.' He reaches out and pats Yata on the head condescendingly.

Yata grinds his teeth together. 'Go away, stupid four eyes,' he growls quietly.

'Well, I'll have you know, I'm not wearing my glasses due to the rain,' Fushimi says casually. 'You would've noticed, if only you open your eyes and see the real world like I do, instead of living in your stupid HOMRA world, Misaki. HOMRA was never going to last, especially not with a king like that.'

Yata snaps. The feelings he has been packing down into his heart suddenly explode, flooding into his veins with a red hot fire. He spins around and punches Fushimi in the face with so much force that the sadistic bastard is knocked down into the rain puddles.

'Don't you dare talk shit about him, you fucking asshole!' Yata yells at the top of his lungs, fully losing his temper and ignoring the fact that his knuckles has split open from the punch and are now dripping with blood. 'Who the fuck do you think you are?! You're just so fucking deluded with that empty brain and shit eating grin of yours! Why do you have to be so damn hateful, huh?! Don't you have any human decency?! Stop seeing the world in red and blue, for once! This isn't about HOMRA or sceptre 4 or stupid shit like that! I lost someone I loved, you idiot! You used to be my best friend, why can't you see that this has nothing to do with which team I'm on?! YOU GODDAMNED FUCKTARD!'

He gasps, having run out of fuel for his rant and collapses onto his knees with a splash before a stunned Fushimi. Yata feels a burning sensation in his eyes and presses his hands to the face, begging himself not to cry in front of the person he utterly hates.

Fushimi sits up slowly, completely taken by surprise. He hadn't expected Yata to react this way, let alone completely break down. He notices all the bruises and scrapes for the first time. 'Mi… ahem, Yata… are you okay?'

Yata doesn't reply, simply curling in on himself and beginning to shake.

Fushimi is suddenly aware of how right Yata is. This isn't about red or blue, this is about the death of a loved one and the pain it causes. He starts to feel a sinking sensation, the beginning of a deep regret over the way he just acted. 'Yata… Yata, I'm sorry.'

Yata shakes his head, keeping his hands pressed over his face.

Fushimi takes a chance and grabs Yata, lifting his to his feet and embracing him.

Yata drops his hands in surprise, the rainwater mixing with his tears, before hesitantly taking hold of Fushimi.

For a moment, it isn't about red and blue anymore, it's about Yata and Fushimi, two boys who happen to be best friends when they aren't dyed in the colors of their kings.

For the first time in weeks, Yata doesn't feel cold and miserable. He feels a warm comfort that he's almost forgotten in the time apart from his best friend.

'Come on,' Fushimi says quietly. 'I'll walk you back home.'

'I don't have the energy to walk,' Yata murmurs back, giving into his fatigue and pain.

'I'll carry you,' Fushimi offers.

After an hour long piggy back ride back to the bar, the two are thoroughly soaked in rainwater. The expression on Izumo's face when he sees them come in through the door is priceless and almost makes Yata think that it was worth the terrible ordeal.

'Delivery,' Fushimi announces jokingly, letting Yata climb off his back.

'I…ah… you… what?' Izumo stutters unintelligently in shock.

Fushimi chuckles and turns to Yata. 'Take care, get some rest. I'll see you around.'

Yata avoids his gaze, staring fixedly at the water pooling around their feet. '…Thanks, Fushimi.'

'No problem, Yata.'

-Extra scene-

Seri glares as Fushimi re-enters the sceptre 4 headquarters. 'Where the hell were you?!'

'Just helping out a friend,' he answers lightly.

'I thought you didn't have friends,' Seri remarks, noticing the bruise on Fushimi's left cheekbone. 'Did you get punched?'

'Yeah,' Fushimi replies, shaking water out of his hair.

'Did you deserve it?'

'Yeah,' he nods.

'Alright, get changed and get back to work.'

'Sure thing.'

'Not in here! What are you doing?!' Seri cries, quickly turning around.

'Oh, I forgot, you're a girl,' Fushimi grins. 'I'll go change in the captain's office then, he can lecture me about being late while I change, that might save time.'

'Oh god,' Seri mutters, blushing and quickly walking away.

END

A/N: Well, yeah, I tried to write angst, but I have a thing for happy endings, though. Feedback and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!


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